Licentious Proclivities
by Renai-chan
Summary: Charles has a kink and Erik indulges it, but Charles tends to draw attention and attraction to him wherever he goes—especially when he's unclothed and seductive. BDSM, exhibitionism, implied forced drug use, graphic male sex, non-con stuff.


**Title: **Licentious Proclivities  
><strong>Author: <strong>Renai-chan  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> X-Men: First Class does in no way belong to me nor do I claim in any way that it does. I am merely using the characters to fulfill my twisted imagination.

**Genre:** Romance  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Charles/Erik  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Charles has a kink and Erik indulges it, but Charles tends to draw attention and attraction to him wherever he goes—especially when he's unclothed and seductive.  
><strong>Authors' Notes:<strong> Based on this prompt: http (colon) (double slash) 1stclass-kink (dot) livejournal (dot) com (slash) 8846 (dot) html?thread=18336910#t18336910. Some of my inspiration came from "The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty" series by Anne Rice (yes, _the_ Anne Rice), though the stuff here isn't too reminiscent of it. You should check it out if BDSM is your kink ;) On another note, I think I am completely incapable of writing (1) long (especially chaptered) fics and (2) angsty, overly-insightful fics. I have recently come to accept that and thus don't expect this fic to be either.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>BDSM (a lot of it, but nothing _too_ extreme; I tried to keep it tasteful), exhibitionism, implied forced drug use, graphic male sex, non-con stuff.

**Enjoy!**

In a way, teaching seemed to be the best choice of vocation for Charles Xavier.

It allowed him to do all the things he loved doing—imparting knowledge and honing minds a great part of them. To see a child develop control of skills and talents borne to him, to see that child use those skills for the betterment of mankind, that was one of Charles's greatest desires in life and it was his greatest ambition to do it for every and any child he could.

But if Charles were to be truly honest with himself (and he usually was because after all, if you could not trust yourself, who else could you trust?), a small part of him—a small but rather significant part—said that he loved teaching because he loved the way eyes followed him as he walked around the room, as he gestured to writings on the board, to charts and maps, as he used his own skills and talents borne to him for the betterment of mankind.

Erik had once said—and he knew about Charles's little kink because Charles was lucky enough to find someone to trust when he couldn't trust himself—that Charles was an exhibitionist. And because Charles trusted himself and trusted Erik, he agreed.

And so when the class was done and the children had gone to bed, Erik would indulge Charles's little kink because Charles wanted to and he wanted to and it was better for the both of them really because Charles was truly shameless in bed and was rather adventurous.

And then Charles had gone to the CIA one day and returned home with stories to tell that he pulled from the mind of one CIA director. He told Erik about parties that were held in an estate not too far from Westchester, black tie masquerades, invitation only, every Tuesday because it was the most inconspicuous. He told him of the size of the house and the décor and the food and the wine and the number of attendees that was roughly about a hundred. And then he told Erik of the attendees of the party, with women dressed in their finest and men in tuxedos and bow ties, and men and women with collars around their necks and leashes in the hands of the finely dressed men and women.

At that point, Erik was sure he had misunderstood because Charles's mouth was wrapped around his cock and it was rather hard to think when that happened. But Charles continued to tell him about the party and the dominants and submissives and the entertainment that was mainly submissives fucking or masturbating onstage at their masters' command. Erik knew then that Charles had a point and what it was, but by then he was _fucking_ Charles's _throat_ and so when Charles said _I managed to convince the CIA director to procure us an invite. We should go,_ Erik gurgled out a reply that Charles took to be an affirmative and came down the telepath's throat.

xxxxx

"Bathroom furnishings and silverware."

It should have been a question, but it wasn't and Erik had to grin.

Charles was sat in his study with the children around him, opening gifts after having a lovely dinner because it was his birthday. So far, he had gotten several books (one each from Hank, Alex and Sean who had obviously shopped together) and a beautiful monogrammed fountain pen from Raven because she knew he wanted one. And now, he held in his hands several faucets and two sets of forks, spoons and knives that were supposedly a gift from Erik. The taller man crossed one leg over the other and leaned back against the couch, draping one arm on the back of the sofa behind Charles's head. He was obviously rather pleased with his gift and while they were all beautifully polished to a mirror-finish, Charles, for the life of him, couldn't fathom _why_.

"What's up with _that_?" Sean asked after a moment of confused silence. Erik gave a chuckle and leaned over to whisper in Charles's ear. The telepath suddenly blushed brightly, earning them screams and moans of "Oh, God! No! I take my question back!" "Horrifying. Mental. Images. Must. Shoot. Myself." and "Alex! You and me. Bunker. Right now."

All whines and complaints suddenly came to a screeching halt as they stared at Hank in horrified bemusement. He paled as he reconsidered his words.

"No—Not like _that_!" he backtracked, shaking his head and waving his hands in an effort to stifle the growing laughter of Sean and Raven and the growing blush of Alex. "I meant… I meant he should use his powers on me! You know? To _kill_me?" And with that, all thoughts of the purpose behind the faucets and silverware were dropped in favor of teasing Hank (and Alex) about his 'newfound sexuality.'

All in all, Charles and Erik were thankful of Hank's lack of eloquence because it made it that much easier to slip out of the study and back into their bedroom where Charles didn't even wait for the door to shut when he started stripping down. Erik noted that Charles looked into the mirror across the door as he did. Their eyes met and Erik rushed over as though compelled. He wrapped his arms around Charles's torso and sucked on the neck that was so delightfully bared just for him.

He beckoned his gift to Charles closer, ordering them to hover in Charles's line of sight. When he was sure he had Charles's attention, he commanded the metals to coalesce into one shimmering piece before dividing it into several distinctly formed objects. One of the items was a mask designed to cover Erik's eyes, which it did. The other was a mask for Charles, covering his entire face, save for his mouth and chin. The next item was a collar and leash which promptly secured itself around Charles's neck. The fourth item was a set of manacles that wrapped around Charles's wrists, their seam disappearing as they closed. The last item looked as if it didn't know what to be, but eventually it settled into what looked to be a butt plug.

"Open your mouth, _liebe_," Erik murmured, to which the telepath readily complied. The toy drifted closer and settled itself on Charles's tongue. "Imagine it is my cock you're sucking on, my love." Charles moaned softly and lifted his arms to wrap around Erik behind him while the taller man kicked his legs open wider, just enough for him to be able to push two of his fingers into the telepath's ass. He was rewarded with a small cry of pleasure.

"Watch yourself, Charles," Erik whispered when Charles had shut his eyes and leaned his head back onto Erik's shoulder. The bright blue eyes snapped open and Charles gave a wanton moan. "Imagine yourself being fucked in front of hundreds of eyes as I will be certain to do to you tomorrow…" It didn't escape him when Charles spread his legs that much wider. "Touch yourself," Erik ordered as he undid his own belt and fly. Charles bit his lip and did as told and moaned when he felt Erik's head prodding him from behind. He managed two strokes on his cock before Erik penetrated him; after that, all mental processes went south. He only managed to keep himself from dropping his head back down on Erik's shoulder only because Erik had ordered him not to.

"Look at you," Erik whispered, thrusting into Charles sharply and extracting a cry. "Men would come just from watching you parade your cock in front of them." Charles whimpered and grasped the edges of mirror for balance as Erik pounded into him. "They'd pay fortunes to watch you on your hands and knees, fucking yourself with whatever phallic representation given you." The telepath cried out once more as Erik managed to hit his prostate. "And then they would want to see you stroking yourself and coming with that toy up your arse." Erik gripped Charles's hips tightly, pulling him back as he pushed forward. "And you would lick your own come off of your hands, wouldn't you? Because you'd be giving them a show they well and truly paid for." And then Charles was coming and whimpering around the toy in his mouth and clenching so that Erik followed not soon after.

xxxxx

One of the things Charles disliked about how unlike he and Erik had grown up was the fact that Erik was _born_ to live the life Charles had, if only because he looked _fantastic_ in a tux. More than that, though, he had the grace, eloquence and presence characteristic of a man borne into high society, not that of a Jewish German during the Holocaust—he spoke several different languages with fluency and ease, albeit with a minor accent, he had acquired the manners and etiquette Charles knew Shaw had not taught him and he commanded the attention of all in a room and the loyalty of those he required it of.

Charles had long noticed those qualities in him, but it was further reinforced the day they first drove up in his blue Shelby Cobra (which Charles had promptly given to Erik because he looked _amazing_ driving it) to the estate where the party was held.

Charles couldn't deny that despite the fact that he had been looking forward to the experience, he couldn't have helped that he had been as nervous as hell; being submissive and practically naked in a room full of people demanded a certain level of vulnerability, after all. Erik, though, had looked as though he had been attending parties like this his entire life even though Charles knew he was as new to this experience as Charles was. He had seemed to know exactly what to do and exuded confidence and precision in every action. More than that, he acted as though this was something _he_ had long since wanted to do, not something he indulged Charles. For that, Charles had been infinitely grateful because he couldn't have handled Erik's unease along with his own.

As they had awaited their turn up the driveway, Erik, sensing his unease, had stolen a quick glance at Charles, brushed his fingers against his neck and pulled him closer by his collar to plant a quick kiss on his lips.

"We can go whenever you want to. You don't have to go through with this," he had said gently. "But if you do, I promise no one will be able to take their eyes off you all night." Charles had returned his smile and just like that, allowed Erik to assist him out of the car, to take him by the collar and leash around his neck and to give him exactly what he wanted.

That had been a few months ago and they had been regularly returning since then, squeezing their way into the upper echelons of the guests and charming their way into Lady Flynn Gellert, the estate owner and the hostess of the party's inner circle. Amongst this group in a private parlor, Erik sat and traded gossip and intelligent talk alike, prompted by Charles when he did not know of the topic, like the German steel mogul's heir he pretended to be: charming, witty and intelligent, but supremely unconcerned about the hardships of life and rather indulgent in trivialities like Charles (Charles had made sure to nudge their minds just a little so that those who met them both in and out of the party would be unable to make the connection between Erik Lensherr and Charles Xavier and Magnus Eisenhardt and his sub).

Charles, meanwhile, would clamber on his lap and unashamedly ride him or kneel between his legs and suck him and when his lover was satisfied, he would answer to commands of 'more wine, _mój cenionych_,' and 'fetch the ladies an hors d'oeuvre, _liebe_,' always pet names in an assortment of languages as though that was what Charles was. The women in the room found it endearing and Charles tried—and failed—not to.

"On the table, _meu amor lindo_," Erik instructed to his lover at his feet, brushing his cheek with his fingertips and momentarily allowing Charles to draw his forefinger in his mouth to suck. He then withdrew it and added, while gesturing to the coffee table in the middle of the couches, "On your hands and knees, _liebling_." Charles readily complied, positioning his knees apart and exposing himself to the hungry gazes of the other occupants in the room, doms and subs alike. He did not pretend to deny that he could not see the fantasies of those around him, some involving Erik and he, some he alone. He preened at the thoughts and the attention, allowing himself only that weakness as he knew his own limits and he knew Erik's.

He felt Erik's hand—he could not see, for Erik was behind him, but he knew it couldn't be anyone else—caress his bottom, his thumb stroking his hole. But then it was withdrawn slightly when the doors behind Erik opened and all turned to see who entered. "Don't move, _schatz_," Erik ordered and Charles nodded. Unlike those around him though, he didn't have to turn around to see who had entered. He probed the mind of Eddie—the young sub of Lord Elroy Drillon, a nobleman from England who Charles had been introduced to while he was still at school—to see Lady Flynn enter, escorted by a young, black-haired man he did not recognize.

It didn't take him long to find out that the man was David Apperton, a simple, but ambitious businessman from the outskirts of Manhattan who thought that the parties here were his ticket to wealth. He had done his homework and for a while, worked on charming Lady Flynn. He radiated triumph as he was lead into the room reserved for those the lady liked best, wondering whom he should get close to and calculating the benefits of it.

"My, my," he heard David murmur as he caught sight of Charles. The telepath frowned thoughtfully, undecided whether he should be aroused or cautious at the man's strange smile. "I am an admittedly difficult man to please, but I certainly wouldn't mind coming home to this sight everyday." Lady Flynn laughed melodiously.

"Oh, darling, anyone here would, but I'm afraid this one is off limits to everyone," she said. "Believe me, I've tried. Several times, in fact." David adopted a surprised look.

"And may I ask who would deny such a lovely woman her heart's desires?" he asked in false horror. Erik took that as his cue to stand.

"That would be me," he replied, drawing the attention of the hostess and her escort. "Magnus Eisenhardt," he introduced himself, extending a gloved hand to David. The black-haired man considered it for a brief moment, but a moment too long in Charles's opinion, before taking Erik's hand and shaking it once.

"David Apperton," he responded shortly.

"Max here owns Eisenhardt Industries, the biggest steel milling corporation in Germany," Lady Flynn offered. Erik gave a small smile and a shrug that Charles was insanely proud of because it was not the least bit sarcastic or threatening, but rather charming and modest.

"It is my father that owns them, my lady, not yet I," he corrected.

"A bit far from Germany, aren't you?" David seemed to bite out. Erik frowned minutely and shrugged once more.

"The company has been looking to expand to the Americas. I'm here to see if that is feasible," he explained. David seemed to lose interest after that.

"And this lovely young gentleman?" he asked, nodding in Charles's direction, but aiming the question at Lady Flynn. Charles could sense Erik irritation; the lady didn't.

"This is Max's sub, Francis," she answered. "Beautiful, isn't he? You should wait until he _performs_." Her eyes sparkled. "While Max refuses to share him, he let's us watch, and he is _marvelous_," she gushed. Charles preened once more at the compliment, wondering how long it would take for Erik to pay attention to him again. The other mutant sat back down, his eyes watching David as he was lead around the room, introduced to the various occupants.

_Erik_, Charles called, shifting his hips to gain Erik's attention. He was rewarded with a slap that didn't have the effect Erik may have been going for. Charles let out a soft moan, drawing the room's attention back to himself. David and Lady Flynn took their seats directly in front of Charles as Erik gripped his arse cheeks once more and slipped both of his thumbs in. Charles tipped his head back and arched as he cried out, pushing himself back on the intrusion. Erik worked his thumbs in his lover, stretching the tight ring of muscles until he was satisfied that Charles was loose enough. He then called over one of Lady Flynn's subs and picked a sizeable dildo from the selection she offered. He caressed Charles's entrance once more with the tip of the toy before slowly pushing it in and earning a sharp cry from his lover. He ignored it and continued pushing it in until all that was left was the hilt.

"Sit up, _mon chéri_, and show everyone how you pleasure yourself," he instructed softly, sitting back as Charles sat back on his heels, effectively keeping the dildo in place, but spreading his knees apart to expose his stiff erection. He took the shaft in one hand and his balls in another, stroking and fondling both at the same time. Behind him, he could hear and see Erik projecting his thoughts.

_Look at them, my love,_ Erik whispered in his mind. _They are hard and wet with the desire to see you cum all over yourself._ Charles moaned softly, working his hands over his cock faster as he saw images of himself on his knees jerking his lover off. He saw images of Erik grasping his hair and pulling his mouth onto his cock, fucking the orifice, of Erik holding him in place by the collar around his neck as he came all over Charles's face, of Erik licking his own cum off Charles's cheeks and feeding it to him through a kiss, and then Charles was coming, fast and hard, all over his stomach and chest and the tabletop before him. Erik's smirk was triumphant and smug as he leaned back further into the couch to watch Charles who, without prompting, bent forward and dragged his tongue over the semen that dotted the wood before him.

The telepath felt and reveled in the waves of arousal that washed over him as many of the people around them came, as he expected them to after sending out his own shockwave of arousal when he came. He looked up, after having cleaned the table of his spunk, at the people before him. Lady Flynn was flustered and pleased, as she always was after one of what she called his "performances." David, though…

… he looked insanely hungry for more.

xxxxx

"He was projecting a whole lot of rather… interesting thoughts," Charles remarked as the covertly discussed the night before while washing the breakfast plates. He handed one to Erik for drying before starting on the next plate. "Interesting, but a bit extreme for my tastes, I think. Here, let me show you." Charles turned around to face Erik, sending him images of the thoughts David projected yesterday. Almost all were about Charles painfully trussed up in varying and rather uncomfortable-looking poses, dressed in different costumes and props, fucked by various things and people and in one image, by a German Mastiff (to Erik's credit, he expressed no reaction towards that last one).

"We should expect people like that," the taller man said. "After all, those parties are not exactly the place for upstanding, highly moral citizens. Besides, I hardly think he's in any position to do anything." Charles shrugged, thinking that Erik had a point. "Not with all the metal that surrounds him wherever he goes." The casual remark earned Erik a warning glare as Charles opened his mouth to reprimand him, a glare to which he laughed and jumped forward, pinning Charles against the sink with his hips and trapping him there with his hands pressed against the countertop. Charles returned the laugh with one of his own and a kiss that quickly turned from sweet to languorous.

He had just wrapped his arms around Erik's neck when a sudden cry of "Oh, god, get a room!" startled them. They turned to see Alex and Sean in the doorway, shielding their eyes and mimicking dying. Erik scowled at them and jerked his hand. The effect was hilarious as the metal eyelets in the teens' shoes hauled them upside down and suspended in midair.

"Hey!" the pair screamed and flailed, reaching towards their trainers to undo their shoelaces. Charles heard the crash before he saw them fall into a heap on the floor. He stifled a laugh with his hand.

"It seems we've been ignoring the children for too long, Charles. I'll see to their training while you finish up here," Erik remarked loudly, resulting in whines from the pair. "To the gym, boys," he commanded before pecking Charles quickly on the lips and hauling the teens to the aforementioned destination.

xxxxx

Charles soon learned to deal with the hungry gazes and disturbing projections that David often sent his way, treating them much like the gazes and projections of the other members of Lady Flynn's group. Often, David would bring his own sub—a girl of about twenty, named Mischa—to the party, radically reducing the projections to more acceptable levels, such as him fucking her while David fucked him or she fucking him with a strap-on, but those times were far and few in between, as he much preferred to watch and fantasize about Charles instead.

She was here this night, her blonde hair curled in loose ringlets and a ribbon decorating her throat and acting as her leash, but David barely paid her any mind, only commanding her to serve the room with drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

Charles was sat in Erik's lap, facing him as he was fed with oysters with mignonette ice, goat cheese and walnut endives and panko-crusted crab bites. He took the opportunity to lavish attention on Erik's fingers with each bite, feeling Erik's arousal grow. Erik didn't often actively fuck him during these parties, but when he did, it was _glorious_ and so he aimed to have it happen as often as possible.

Mischa came over, mumbling 'last glass, last glass' in her head, and offered Erik the last glass of wine, which the mutant accepted amidst the distraction that was Charles wriggling in his lap. He knocked back half of it and offered the remaining to Charles who quickly downed it as well. Erik then stood, interrupting what was a dreadfully dull discussion of politics in the South East, and hauled Charles away from the group, tossing him over the grand piano in the corner. He parted his lover's legs with his knees and pulled out his cock from his pants before unceremoniously pushing into him. Charles cried out in surprise and not a small amount of pleasure, pushing himself back against his lover.

Erik pulled himself out and pushed back in in one smooth move, extracting another cry from Charles. He repeated the motion again and again, the angle perfect for pounding against Charles's prostate and reducing the telepath into a puddle of pleasure. It didn't take long for Charles to come, his seed streaming down the piano's leg. Erik pulled out and forced Charles to his knees and Charles took Erik into his mouth, sucking his lover to completion. It was short, but intense and Charles felt his vision flickering around the periphery. He blinked twice to clear his sight, confused when that failed. Had he drank a lot? He didn't think so, and yet he felt the vague euphoria of inebriation.

_I think it's time to go, Erik,_ he told the taller mutant. He looked up to see Erik shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.

_Yes, I think it is,_ Erik answered, sounding as confused as Charles was. He lifted his lover to his feet and made his way back to the party to say their goodbyes. Lady Flynn put up a half-hearted attempt to make them stay, but it didn't take them long to take their leave anyway. When they left the parlor, most guests were still in the main ballroom and only the valets were outside to see them off. They watched their car roll around the driveway and stop before them when darkness suddenly filled their vision and they succumbed to it.

xxxxx

Erik woke up slowly and looked around in groggy confusion. He found himself alone in a small, dark room, not much bigger than a broom closet and after moving his hands, found them handcuffed to a pipe. He almost laughed out loud. _Handcuffed._ Yes, _really_.

With an almost careless gesture, he snapped open the handcuff, withdrew his wrists and crushed the handcuffs into a small ball as though they were tinfoil. He blinked once more as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and looked around again, searching for an exit. He found it in the form of a doorknob and walked in that direction. He didn't bother finding out whether or not the door was locked—it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Instead, he flung it open with force and stepped calmly outside as if being kidnapped and detained was a daily occurrence (at one point in his life, it was.)

_Charles?_ he projected as soon as he stepped into the bright hallway. He felt the weight of a gun trained on him and waved his hand at it, as though swatting away a mosquito. The metal crumpled like a piece of paper in the hands of the horrified gunman and Erik, without a single thought, used the balled-up remains of his handcuffs as a projectile straight into the gunman's forehead.

_Charles?_ he tried again, starting in the direction the gunman lay. He stepped over the body outwardly calmly, lest he bring down the building in anger. He found himself at the bottom of a stairwell and took to climbing up. At the top, though, men blocked his path, guns trained on him. He did not stop and when the men fired, redirected the bullets back to their owners. The five men dropped dead, allowing him to step onto and over their corpses in his search for Charles. He emerged from a doorway and into an elegant lobby where over the receptionist's desk, it said _Apperton, Inc._ Erik sneered and walked up to the girl.

"Where is David?" he demanded.

"Mr. Apperton is a meeting right now. If you would care to leave a message, I will let him know of it as soon as possible," she responded. Erik glanced at the telephone on her desk and channeled his energy through the copper wires, commanding them to wrap around her neck tightly.

"I think you misunderstood me. Where. IS. He?" he snarled at the choking girl. The commotion caught the attention of the security personnel who ran to them, guns drawn. Erik snarled at them and flung them back by the metals on their body. He returned his attention to the receptionist who stuttered:

"Pe—penthouse! S—stop, please!" Erik ignored her and ran to the elevator, forgoing pressing the buttons and pulling the steel box forcefully down. Shrieks greeted him as the occupants of the elevator stumbled out. He pushed his way in, throwing them out, and lifted the elevator to the top floor. More gunned men greeted him and he flung them out of his way in his determination to get through the door before him. Vaguely, he heard a window shatter, but paid it no mind. The doors were before him and he flung them open by their doorknobs, his stride unimpeded. Behind him, more men fired their guns and met their demise in the same way as the men on the bottom floor.

"Charles?" he yelled into the spacious and vacant office. A door on his right caught his attention and he strode over to it, flinging it open with a flick of his wrist.

The sight that greeted him made his blood boil. He figured out why Charles did not respond: the telepath was unconscious on a four poster bed that should not have belonged in an office building and was bound and gagged in a way that was reminiscent of David's fantasies. Both of his arms were roped together behind his back, his cheeks and knees pressed to the mattress, his ass spread and exposed. Behind him was a machine that Erik could guess the purpose of, seeing as, at the end of a long rod, a dildo was attached and pushed into Charles's hole. The machine jack hammered the dildo into Charles in random patterns and Erik had to wonder what David had done that Charles was not conscious despite the intrusions.

On a nearby settee, David had been apparently lounging with a glass of brandy watching Charles with his cock hanging out, but with Erik's entrance, dropped the glass on the carpet in surprise.

"Ma—Magnus!" he exclaimed in surprise, quickly attempting to tuck himself in. Erik didn't give him the chance and did the fly of his pants up, painfully zipping the skin of his cock. David screamed in pain.

"I could chop of your dick with your zipper, _Scheißkerl_," Erik snarled, lifting the screaming businessman well off of the floor and allowing the metal zipper to make good on his word. Then he heard Charles stir and paused in his vengeance. He allowed David to fall to the floor, still screaming and clutching his nether regions as he strode over to the bed. A quick flick of the wrist had the machine destroyed in seconds and he grabbed a shard of metal to cut through the ropes.

"Erik?" Charles murmured.

"_Ja, mein libeling_," Erik murmured, pulling Charles to him. The telepath took a moment to scan his recent memories and Erik allowed him to see. Charles's grip on his tuxedo tightened for a moment before it relaxed. He sat up and faced Erik.

"My love, you should never feel the need to kill for me," he whispered, stroking the taller mutant's cheek. Erik pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand.

"Mercy is never an option when they hurt you," he replied and flicked his hand before Charles could stop him. A piercing shriek of pain echoed throughout the penthouse and Charles covered his ears to block out the sound and the mental images of David being castrated by his own pants.

His and Erik's ideologies clashed at the best of times, and this is far, _far_ from the best of them, but Charles swore that he would protect Erik as much as the other protected him, no matter how different they were. And so as they picked themselves up and exited the building, Charles rearranged memories and implanted new ones in the minds of all that were potential witnesses and evidences.

xxxxx

"It was horrible what happened to David, wasn't it?" Elizabeth Gregory said as soon as she stepped foot into the parlor the following Tuesday. The group was discussing that exact same thing before she had arrived. "To be mutilated in that way for the sake of petty theft!" Erik had to hide his grin by sucking on Charles's neck.

"And to think that no one has yet to find the thief makes me lose faith in the police system here in New York," Lady Flynn added, earning nods of assent.

"Ladies, ladies," Byron Byrd boomed, his huge belly wobbling as he stood—he was the director of the New York division of the FBI. "Do not worry yourselves. This is an isolated incident after all. The New York Police Department still has the highest success rate in catching criminals out of all the police departments on the Eastern coast." The ladies seemed placated by that, but that did not stop their gossip about David's incident.

_You shouldn't be so happy about having gotten away with it. I may choose not to cover for you next time, _Charles reprimanded his lover. Erik's shoulders shook with a chuckle.

_It is not that I have gotten away with it, but that I have exacted just revenge that delights me, liebe,_ he answered. _And I do not need your protection. There is very little that can stop me from getting what I want._ Charles frowned at that. Despite the truth in the statement, it bothered him that if Erik believed that—and he did—he just might see himself in a position of great power that he would not hesitate to take advantage of, and Charles knew he was not aware or did not care for the repercussions of such actions.

But then Erik stroked his cock and drew him into a kiss and Charles allowed him to. Political ideologies and agendas were a discussion for another day after all.

Preferably when they were both dressed.

xxxxx

_Reviews are love!~_


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